Now That I've Come Home
by Damusen
Summary: The sequel to 'Someone to come home to'.  Fluffy with a dash of angst, it's not necessary to have read the prequel although I would like reviews for both of them!  JohnnyPonyboy slash.


Get me and my sequel!

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Ponyboy woke to a breeze across his face and ankles and an extremely warm bed. He blinked his eyes drowsily and started slightly at the face a few inches from his own.

Johnny always looked younger when he was asleep, but really just as nervous a he always looked, with a crease between his eyes and long eyelashes fluttering. Ponyboy vaguely wondered what he dreamed about; if they were full of action and adventure, or memories, or pain. Pony knew he was staring and blushed, thankful that he was asleep. Slowly, tentatively, he brushed a thumb lightly across the bruise on Johnny's cheek, wincing in recollection of the previous night and how he had bawled like some baby because Darry had smacked him one.

Darry… Now there was a conversation he wasn't looking forward to having.

"You ok, Pony?"

Ponyboy jumped, startled out of his reverie. Huge, black eyes caught his own and held them as he searched for an answer.

"Yeah," he replied finally, "I think I am."

Johnny smiled and yawned, his jaw cracking slightly. He closed his eyes and looked prepared to go back to sleep. Pony guessed it was about six in the morning; the sun was rising and sending out a pinky orange tint across the lot. He hoped Darry and Soda had gone to bed and not stayed up all night worrying about him, but right now he was too comfortable and warm to even think about moving. He touched the bruise on Johnny's face again and traced the outline of it with his index finger.

"Glory, I hate that your folks do this, Johnnycake, they ain't got no right doing this to you."

Johnny opened his eyes, but they were sleepy and content for the moment, the suspicious look errant.

"It makes me so mad Johnny, so mad. You ain't never done nothing to no-one and you get this as well…"

Ponyboy knew he was waffling, Johnny seemed to be dozing off again already. He hesitantly brushed his fingers down to the cut on his lip, black eyes opening again to watch what he was doing. Johnny didn't ask any questions but his eyes held confusion, and some sort of strange emotion Pony couldn't register at first. The black haired boy should have loathed people touching him, but all Pony could see in his eyes was a willingness to be held with affection and touched with something other than pure unadulterated hatred. Holding his breath, unsure of what he was doing, Pony moved his hands to Johnny's bare arms underneath the jacket that he'd thrown over both of them at some point in the night and lightly ran his fingers over the bruises and cuts and old scars, holding his gaze.

Johnny's breath hitched as Pony swept his fingers onto his neck and ran over his wife-beater, down to the bottom of the material and slowly, onto the bare skin of his stomach and chest. Ponyboy could feel his heart beats ringing in his ears, and knew that his own breath was coming in smothered gasps. All he feel was bruises and marks and scars and soft, soft skin stretched over a skinny torso and brittle ribcage that never had quite enough to eat. His back was flayed from a belt buckle, all cut up, but Pony continued to run his fingers over the abused and oh so soft tanned skin, revelling in the knowledge that he was the first person to have ever touched Johnny like this and more to the point, how much Johnny also seemed to be enjoying the attention.

His hands ghosted back to the tanned face and black eyes, settling in the greased hair and by the small ears. Shining out of the boy's eyes was something Pony didn't quite want to label yet, but he was fairly certain that his own were the same if not worse.

With great trepidation, he moved ever so slightly closer, 'til their entire bodies were pressed lightly together and he had to narrow his eyes to be able to see the boy's face. Johnny looked scared, nervous, and very, very hopeful, and Ponyboy hesitated, closed his eyes and leant forwards, pressing his lips gently against the swollen ones in front of him, more terrified than he'd ever been in his entire life.

Johnny didn't respond to the kiss that wasn't even really a kiss for a few seconds, but just as Pony was about to pull away and begin apologising like mad he gently pressed back, his long eyelashes tickling Pony's face.

Like all first kisses it was clumsy and full of mistakes, but Pony had never felt better. When he felt Johnny's tongue sweep lightly across his lips he eagerly opened his mouth and kissed back, somewhat aware in the back of his mind that this very public session was becoming more and more heated, and that the gentle kiss was fast becoming more desperate, and that their bodies were pressed against each other in a highly provocative way.

They finally drew apart, gasping for breath and smiling in a manner Two-bit would have been proud of.

Ponyboy gazed at the older boy and was offered a shy smile in return, prompting a goofy grin.

"Glory," he muttered, absent-mindedly rubbing his hand across the boys back, "you surprise me everyday Johnnycake."

Johnny's big black eyes widened and he shrugged one shoulder.

"I gotta go let Darry know that we're ok. You coming for breakfast Johnnycake?"

Johnny nodded and squeezed his hand. Pony squeezed back, knowing that for the first time in a long time, things were clear, and that maybe dreaming wasn't so bad if once in a while you got what you wanted.


End file.
